


Fragments of a Lost Soul from a High School Drop Out

by alphvjensen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Worship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hand Jobs, Praise Kink, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 22:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11746149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphvjensen/pseuds/alphvjensen
Summary: "The sound of water hitting the porcelain sink echoed around the bathroom. Dean’s hands gripped the side of the sink, his knuckles practically white as he stared down at the water, wishing that the sound could drown out the thoughts in his head. Except it never did work. No matter how loud the outside world was, the voices in his head were even louder."





	Fragments of a Lost Soul from a High School Drop Out

The sound of water hitting the porcelain sink echoed around the bathroom. Dean’s hands gripped the side of the sink, his knuckles practically white as he stared down at the water, wishing that the sound could drown out the thoughts in his head. Except it never did work. No matter how loud the outside world was, the voices in his head were even louder.

He looked up at himself in the mirror, seeing the tears that were pooling in the corner of his eyes and he hated it. That weakness that broke through the cracks causing everyone to leave.

It was easy to see why everyone left when he got like this. Why nobody stuck around. Even the girls that he hooks up with at night, the ones that he finds at a bar, they always leave in the morning, crawling back to their normal life as Dean disappeared back in the shadows. No one wanted to put up with him, with his calloused hands, bruises and scars. He gave everything to everybody. He gave his body. He gave his soul and yet they still left in the morning.

And it wasn’t just them, those girls. It was everyone else around him.

Mom came back and he thought, for just a second, that everything was going to be okay. He grew up with only the memory of her and then she was back, right within reach. He tried not to cling to her, tried to be the man that his father raised to keep her around and yet she still left. She left to go work with those pompous British Men of Letters folks not caring that they hurt her son.

She left when she found out just how weak he was.

He crumbled the moment that the tears fell down his face. One hit to the glass mirror and blood poured from his split knuckles. “Fuck you. Fuck all of you.” His voice broke at the end.

He wasn’t sure if he was speaking to the man in the fractured glass or every person in his life that left.

I mean, even Sam left. Repeatedly. Choosing to get away from the one thing that stained the tapestry that was his life.

Behind him, he heard the door to the bathroom opening and suddenly Sam was right there. Dean met his gaze in the mirror for a fraction of a second before he ducked his head and wiped the tears that fell on his sleeve. It was best if Sam didn’t know how weak Dean actually was.

Sam closed his hand around Dean’s wrist and guided his hand underneath the stream of running water, trying to wash away the blood before he grabbed a towel with the intent to wrap Dean’s wrist. The entire time Dean kept trying to shove Sam away, out of the bathroom but Sam was a force that couldn’t be moved.

“Stop, stop, Dean.” Sam whispered, his voice as gentle as he could make it. “I’m here, Dean. I’m here.” He hushed. Once he was done wrapping Dean’s hand, he pulled the broken man close, pressing his lips to Dean’s forehead. “Shh, let me take care of you.”

Dean shook his head, still fighting against Sam, still trying to push him away, all the while, his fingers grabbed at Sam’s shirt, trying to keep him as close as possible. Sam just cradled the back of Dean’s head, holding him as tight as possible for as long as possible. The moment that Dean sobered up, he would pull away, build back up those walls and Sam would never see this side of Dean. The side that showed the wear and tear that tore at Dean’s being.

When Dean had stopped shaking, Sam grabbed his hand and lead him into the bedroom, gently pressing him down on the bed. Dean did as he was directed, completely pliant to his brother.

He watched Sam, his eyes wide and fearful, another set of unshed tears threatening to fall as Sam kissed up his body, pushing his shirt up and off and then down his legs as he peeled his jeans and boxers from him. Dean swallowed thickly as Sam hovered over him, removing his own clothes.

“Don’t… don’t leave me.” Dean whispered, he begged, barely loud enough to be heard almost like he didn’t want Sam to hear. “Not again. I don’t think… I can’t…”

Sam shushed him with his lips.

“I’m not leaving you, Dean.”

But Dean squeezed his eyes shut, like listening to Sam and looking at him was too much and he shook his head, just barely, not believing what Sam was saying. “That’s not true. You’ll leave me again, you’ll realize why you left in the first place. So don’t tell me that you won’t because I’ll believe you. But…” Dean took a shuddery breath, one that shook his whole body. “But I won’t blame you when you do leave. I would leave me too. I’m poison.”

Sam grabbed Dean’s head in between his hands and he only squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

“Dean, open your eyes.” Except he didn’t. “Dean, look at me. Open your eyes and listen to me.” It took a while but slowly Dean opened his eyes, tears still brimming in the corners waiting to spill over. “You, Dean Winchester, are not poison and I am never going to leave you again. I was wrong every time I left and I am never making that mistake again.”

“You deserve better than me.” He muttered, ashamed of himself.

“You’re all I could ever want, Dean.”

But Sam knew, by the look in Dean’s eye, by the way he couldn’t really look at Sam, Sam knew that Dean didn’t believe him. How could he? Day after day, year after year, he would look at himself in the mirror and hate what stared back. How could he ever believe that someone could actually want him when he didn’t want himself. Especially when that person that said that he wanted him left him repeatedly in the past.

Sam smiled as soft as he could, biting back the emotion that was currently choking him as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Dean’s lips before he moved lower, kissing down his chest.

Ever since the British Men of Letters took Sam, he’s been letting his hair grow out, a way of giving him a sense of comfort, a sense of safety, like if his hair grew to a certain point then he could hide behind it.

So as Sam kissed down Dean’s chest, taking extra time to kiss every scar that lined his body, his hair followed in his wake, causing goosebumps to break out along Dean’s flesh.

Dean watched Sam, his eyes tracking every move, pupils not only blown wide in desire but also in disbelief. Sam kissed the innermost part of his thigh, his hot breath fanning out against him, making him shudder underneath him.

“You mean everything to me, Dean Winchester.” Sam mouthed into the flesh of Dean’s thigh. “And I am so sorry for leaving you when I did. I need you.” Sam kissed his way up his thigh, getting closer to his cock that was resting against his stomach.

Dean propped himself up on his elbows, watching as Sam kissed his way up his other thigh, every now and then biting into the muscle, not hard enough to leave a mark but just enough so that Sam can feel the way that Dean flinched underneath him.

Sam drags his nails down Dean’s chest, leaving little red marks, moving lower until they settled on his waist. He sucked marks around Dean’s hipbone as he cupped his balls in his hand, slowly massaging them. Dean collapsed back down on the mattress with a moan, his head tipping back to bare his neck.

Sam placed a wet kiss to the base of his cock, waiting for just a moment to place another a little higher up.

Dean balled up his fist in the sheets, grounding himself. It was kiss after kiss up his shaft, Sam taking his time, making sure that every inch of skin was touched. He was slow and loving and every bit deliberate as he worshipped the body that was laid out in front of him like a shrine.

His hips bucked up towards Sam, silently begging for more. Sam placed both of his hands on his hips, holding him down, pinning him to the bed as he licked up the sensitive underside of his cock, making sure to tongue at that spot right underneath the head that caused Dean to groan like he had all the air sucked out of his lungs. Sam’s eyes flicked up to find that Dean was watching him again, his jaw clenched in anticipation. One of his hands let go of the sheets that he was holding onto so that he could caress Sam’s cheek before he twists his fingers in Sam’s hair.

Sam kept his gaze on his brother, eyes locked together as he pressed his tongue flat against the slit of his cock, lapping up the salty precum that was beading from his swollen cock, leaving little kitten licks against the tip.

“I know that it’s not going to be easy and you’re not going to believe me but Dean, one day you’re going to wake up and look at yourself in the mirror and not hate what you see.” Sam declared as he licked the underside of him again.

“Fucking hell, Sammy.” Dean groaned as Sam finally closed his lips around him, taking him in his mouth. Sam swirled his tongue around him, causing Dean to moan out for him. It was all the encouragement that Sam needed. Those little sounds that were escaping past Dean’s lips, almost like he didn’t want to make them but he couldn’t help himself.

Dean tugged at Sam’s hair, holding him even tighter, lightly directing him as Sam licked and sucked, bobbing his head up and down slowly. “Sam.” He whispered breathless, the name falling from his lips again and again, almost like it was a mantra.

His hips shifted beneath Sam’s hands, every passing second making it harder and harder for him to keep still. But he manages. He does nothing that Sam doesn’t want him to. His hands are an anchor planting him to the mattress.

He’s close. Sam knows by the familiarity of the way that his cock throbs and twitches against Sam’s tongue. Dean moaned, his head tipping back down to the pillow as Sam hummed around him, sending vibrations all up and down his body.

Dean is practically shaking, no longer making coherent words. Slowly Sam pulled off, a thin line of spit still connecting him to his brother. It was dirty and obscene and at some other time, Dean would have commented on it. Except now he just whined when the wet heat of Sam’s mouth was no longer on him.

Sam just shushed Dean, crawling back up Dean’s body to where the length of him was pressed against Dean.

Dean arched his head up, reaching for Sam’s lips and Sam met him halfway.

“Sammy…” Dean muttered, his hands reaching around Sam’s back, his blunt nails digging into Sam’s back.

“Just relax, Dean. Relax.” Sam said as he lined their cocks up and wrapped his hand around the two of them.

It didn’t take long for Dean to completely fall apart. The feeling of Sam’s velvet skin sliding against his and the callouses that lined his hands from the life took him apart. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist, pulling Sam as close as possible and he came with his head buried in the crook of Sam’s neck. Sam came shortly after, sighing out Dean’s name.

They didn’t pull apart. Not immediately. Dean still had his legs wrapped around Sam, his head still buried like he could curl up and hide inside of Sam forever. Sam just peppered his face his kisses, down the bridge of his nose, over his eyelids, on his forehead.

When Dean’s heart stopped racing inside of his chest, he opened his legs and Sam fell beside him on the bed, pulling Dean with him back into his embrace. And Dean clung onto Sam, holding him so tight almost afraid that if he were to loosen his grip then Sam will just slip away like sand on a beach.

Here one day and gone the next.

Sam turned Dean in his arms so that he could kiss away the tears that once again silently started to fall down Dean’s face. Sam knows that later Dean will berate and tear himself apart for breaking like that, for breaking down and crying because it only proved the one that he’s worked so hard in his life not to prove. That he was weak and broken and wasn’t the machine that he was supposed to be.

But for now, he clung onto Sam and Sam ran his hair through Dean’s hair, whispering everything that Dean needed to hear in his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I'm gonna be frank with you, I'm kinda iffy on this piece. Really kinda iffy. I feel that it might slightly ooc but who knows and I haven't written actual smut in forever so I'm trying to get back in the groove of actually writing it. 
> 
> As always, thoughts, comments and opinions are welcomed. Thanks for reading.


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